Flight
by As-Long-As-I'm-Around
Summary: The mind is always first to obey the body's instinct - and Erin's is flight. Except, she has too many people who won't allow that. A different take to the Season 2 ending. Lot's of Voight and Erin, and Erin and Jay and the the rest of the unit. They aren't just a team, they're family. CH 3: Jay makes an appearance.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Spoilers for the Season 2 finale. I didn't like how Hank JUST WALKED AWAY. So... I came up with this.**

 **I do not own Chicago PD or any of the characters.**

 **I just like to use them and play with them.**

 **Review would be awesome!**

 **Also - I know a lot of people try this, and I will bring Jay into it. But I adore the relationship between Erin and Hank, so I need some of them.**

* * *

It took everything she had left - which wasn't much - not to turn her head.

If she did, she would lose herself into those fathomless pools, and she was already lost enough.

If she did, she would crumble more, and she was already crumbles, and what happens to those? They blow away before they can be cleaned up.

His gaze was burning into her, but she was already ash; she'd already been burnt out.

She was nothing, but he had always been very good at finding something in that nothing.

She knew that Bunny did not care that she was spiraling. Knew that Bunny welcomed it with open arms, because it was the only way Erin would ever go willingly into those arms. She knew that her mother was standing beside her, but it was not _for_ her, it was for Hank.

Whereas Hank, who had to also be fuming at her mother's antics, was too busy trying to reach her to give Bunny another thought at this time. It wasn't _her_ he was staring at, was it?

Erin's arms slumped, and her head drooped, and she stared at the bottle in front of her, wishing it was a shot.

In fact -

"Can I get a shot?" She murmured out, and Hank's eyes narrowed into slits.

He had never needed words to communicate.

"Of course you can, honey." Bunny patted her arm, fingers making smooth circles into her skin. "If you need me, I'll just be over there." And after a moment's pause - in which Erin was sure her mother was shooting a warning look at Hank - she was gone.

There was a silence. A deep, forbidding unnatural silence that only covered the two of them, though Erin was sure if anyone stepped over, that they would also feel it. That they too would have to be quiet, without understanding why. It would be the body's instinct, and the mind is always first to obey that.

"You're not having that shot. Get up now, or I'll drag you out of here myself."

Erin continued to stare at the beer bottle. She knew that she should listen to him, knew that he was using his 'warning' voice - the one that comes just before he makes well on what he's threatened. She should care, but she is hungover, and she aches, and just the thought of standing up makes her legs tremble in response.

She knows if she tried, she would crash.

So she says nothing, and does nothing.

Hank eyes her for another moment, as if giving her one last chance.

"Okay, the hard way, then." And he reaches out, and takes her by the arms.

Erin reacts. She brings up her arms, and the half full beer bottle tumbles on the counter top before smashing onto the floor. Neither pay attention; Erin is fighting Hank's arms away, but it is not a fair fight.

"Voight, stop it! Let me go!"

"Okay - stand up on your feet then." He backs away, and Erin's eyes move to her mother's. Bunny storms over, two shots in her hands, and bangs them down in front of Erin with force that is harder than necessary.

"Didn't we just discuss this? We decided that you will give Erin _space_. I know you're dirty, but I would never have thought you would use those tactics on Erin." Bunny's voice is both soft and loud, and she is over confident because she thinks she has Erin.

But if she has Erin, she also has Hank Voight. Hank looks at Bunny for a moment, and the straight posture she has begins to simper under his hard gaze. Erin wants to laugh, but the action seems foreign to her now, so she does nothing but watches.

" _You_ discussed. _I_ listened. As for dirty tactics - it's really in your best interests, Bunny, if you don't talk about things you don't understand. As for Erin? I will do _anything_ I can to make sure she's away from you. I suppose, you wouldn't understand. Even now, in her vulnerable state, you use it to your own advantage." Hank's voice vibrates low, but Bunny still cringes as if he's shouted at her. She blinks, bites her lips and attempts to straighten her shoulders once more.

"I have Erin's best interests at heart- I'm helping her." As if Bunny needs reassurance, she looks to Erin, but Erin looks back at the shot.

"You have her best interests at heart." Hank slowly repeats, as if he does not understand the words and is trying to.

"Of course."

"You're helping her." Hank now deadpans, and Bunny swallows, and takes a deep breath.

"Yes. She needs to be away from that, and needs time with people who care about her and love her-"

"Yes, like the person she thinks might have slipped something into her drink?" Hank cuts her off, and Bunny blinks, and shoots a surprised look at Erin. Erin meets it and stares blankly back at her. She wonders if she should be interested in her mother's reaction to that - and finds she doesn't care. Because Bunny won't.

Sure enough -

"We don't know that for sure."

Hank doesn't look surprised, but he does look angry at her mother's denial of it. His jaw tightens, and his lips purse as if he's swallowed something sour. He waits a moment, as if giving Bunny a chance to try and dig out of the hole she's been digging for years.

And then he's shaking his head.

"Erin's word isn't good enough for you? The fact that she is even suspicious of that should be enough. Frankly, I'm done talking to you; I've got my kid to worry about. Stay out of my way, Bunny."

Bunny opens her mouth, but Erin holds out a hand and shoots her a mother a look that clearly states she will handle it. Bunny nods and folds her arms against her chest, shooting Hank a smug look. As if she's confident again just because Erin's communicated with her.

Hank looks at Erin, and she gazes back at him. To her, he was as easy to read as a favorite book. But now, it's as if he's a new book and she has to relearn. She knows that he hasn't changed, but she has - knows that it's because of what is in her system that she can't grasp onto what she used to know.

"If you need a break, fine. You can take leave, and stay at mine. But you're not doing this, Erin. So I'll ask again. Either you can stand up and walk out of here like an adult, or I can drag you out." He stops, and then a smirk tugs at his lips.

"After all, it wouldn't be the first time, would it?" He cocks his head at her, and she blinks at him. Hank must see something in her face, because his aggression fades, and his look becomes more tender.

"Baby, you don't have to do this, alright?" Bunny says from her side, and Erin looks at her mother.

"I'll do neither. I'll go, Hank - but you can take me back to my apartment." She knows as soon as she says the words, that he's going to disagree, that he'll fight her on it. He looks at her as if she is stupid for even trying to suggest it.

"It's either rehab, or my place. Take your pick, kiddo."

"She's not doing anything wrong! Erin-"

"I'm not asking you-"

Erin just wants to blur the world out, so she grabs one of the shots, and chugs it down. And then Hank has grabbed her, and her world is spinning and her mother is yelling, but she is in that world of semi conscious, and it is so nice that she thinks it must be better to go all the way, and so she does.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I didn't expect so much feedback! You guys are all awesome!**

 **Someone said that they thought Hank walked away because he was hurt - and I agree with you. I think now because she's an adult and she runs with them and he helped her build a new life, really impacts on his decision to walk away.**

 **I hope I don't disappoint anyone with this chapter, but I really, really HAD TO get this out.**

 **Like, it just wrote itself pretty much, and when a story does that, you know it needs to be told!**

 **So, I hope you enjoy and please keep giving me feedback, I promise I read it, and I promise it means something to me. Whatever you want to say. Just always be gentle! I will take on board everything that is said. And I will also feel really good about it, because all of you were really kind and encouraging and it just made me want to continue.**

 **Please let me know what you'd like to see in this. It'll be slow - because these things usually are.**

 **I tried to do this character's point of view justice, but they are a tough one ;)**

 **Anyway, I do not own Chicago PD or any of the characters.**

 **I just like to use them and play with them ;)**

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Hank wants to walk out – and there are many reasons for this. But his feet remained planted, and his gaze continues to linger. It does not alter nor shift, not even when Bunny begins tapping an irritating beat against the floor with her feet.

These reasons filter through his mind, and they are quick and in flashes but he still knows them, because he feels them. But there is one dominating fact that stomp any of these beta thoughts, one that rears its head and barks orders, putting them into their place.

It is one word, but it is more than that. It is one person – but she is more than that.

It's Erin.

And no matter how much these reasons matter, he cannot turn his back on her. He never has been able to, and why should things change decades down the track? He may shift, and things may shift, but who he is – what he is – is more than a skin. It is his very essence, and there is no changing that.

It matters that she is an adult now, and he understands – understands more than she realizes – the grief that she is facing. Knows that it doesn't come in gentle waves, but in pounding ones that smash her to the shore, and then drag her broken body back out. He knows this, and has felt it himself. Knows that he is her anchor, because he has always has been. Before, she had slippery ones that sunk to the bottom – but brought her along with them. Hank knows that it's not because she doesn't understand this, it's because she doesn't care, and that's more chilling than a lack of awareness. Awareness can change in the blink of an eye – but to get to the other side of that wall that some put up to protect themselves is another matter entirely.

It's different than it was before. Erin has funds, a home and runs with another crowd –the kind of crowd that is the polar opposite of who she used to be involved with. He helped her, help herself. She built this life - and it hurts him to see her bow down to Bunny, bow down back to this when she is a queen.

In fact – all of this matters so much that he is rendered to silence as she slides the badge over to him; he can only stand there while she then lets her arms fall, as if either quitting or informing him of her resignation took whatever strength she had left. He hates that – wishes she had used it on better things. Like putting Bunny back in her place - down the rabbit hole, on her own.

But he cannot waste time on being angry at Bunny. It's not about her, or getting one up on her or proving anything to her. He does not, and has never, owed Bunny anything. It is she that owes him, and she knows this and hates this.

Hank has only ever cared about Erin. He has no time for petty games when it comes to the people he loves. Oh - this does not mean that he doesn't have anything to say to the woman, because he does. And in time, he _will_ have his say.

Now is not the time.

He continues to observe Erin. Notices the way she buries her chin on top of her arms. There is nothing in her eyes, and he wants her to look at him so he can dredge it all up. Erin's always been expressive, and even in the glazed pupils, she projects blankness quite vividly.

"Can I have another shot?" Erin murmurs, looking over at Bunny. Hank's eyes narrow.

Really – it is a testament to how far gone she is to push him like this. Even in her state, she knows how she will react, and Hank wonders if he should take it as a good sign, or wonders if she really expects him to walk out and leave her to having beers and shots at nine in the morning.

He also takes note of how hoarse her voice sounds, and he knows this is not only from the substances she's been swallowing and abusing, but also from restraining her grief, and giving into it altogether in unhealthy does and balances.

"Of course you can, honey!" Bunny's voice is as smooth as the word she's just called her daughter. She displays a fake act of concern, and Hank wants to rip those hands away off of Erin, but he does nothing, and says nothing, instead doing what he does best – waiting for the opportune moment.

"If you need me, I'll just be over there." And then she shoots a look at Hank, and he thinks he gives Erin a run for her money in the blank look departments as he stares back at Bunny.

And then, it is just the two of them.

Hank continues to wait; he wants Erin to look at him, wants her to see a reflection of herself and what she is doing. But she stares ahead of her as if he isn't there, and he knows that is just an act, because the tension between the two of them could only exist with acknowledgment of the other's presence.

Hank's waited long enough, he licks his lips and decides to at least give her a warning. Not that she deserves it, but she is an adult, and humiliation won't work like it did all those years ago. It's not about defiance.

"You're not having that shot. Get up, now, or I'll drag you out of here myself."

The silence stretches, and Erin stares at the beer bottle. He wonders how it does not break. She continues to ignore him, and Hank chews the side of his cheek before blowing out a breath. She's not going to do this on her own – she needs a push.

She always has.

"Okay, the hard way, then." And he reaches out and takes her gently by the shoulder.

Erin reacts like an enraged bull. She bucks and shoves against him, and spills the beer bottle. It drips onto his shoes, but it is not the problem – it is not dangerous.

Erin is.

"Voight, stop it! Let me go!" She shouts, and her aggression is weary, as if her body is tired of using it to fight everything.

"Okay – stand up on your feet then." He holds his hands up and takes a step back. Erin is breathing heavily, but there is now something in her eyes as they move from her mother and back onto him, as if he has called and she cannot ignore it. Hank locks onto this, and she cannot look away, even though he knows that she desperately wants to.

Bunny slams down the shot glasses with a force that jars the two of them apart painfully.

"Didn't we just discuss this? We decided that you will give Erin _space_. I know you're dirty but I would never have thought you would use those tactics on Erin."

Bunny is annoyingly over confident. Hank stares at her, and it does not take long for her shoulders to droop, and for her eyes to dart nervously to Erin as if for back up, and it is a move that disgusts Hank. He cannot stand the woman who plays Peter Pan. She has never grown up, and it is infuriating that he speaks to her of dirty tactics when she is using the lowest one of all just to get to him. Oh, she's probably happy that she has Erin, but there is a smugness in her gaze that is just for him. He has never hit a woman; used questionable methods, yes. But Bunny is a constant push at that, and it's only a representation of his character that he hasn't given into that push, or pushed back.

Erin does not come to her mother's aide, and Hank allows another moment of silence because sometimes intimidation is better when nothing is said.

" _You_ discussed. _I_ listened. As for dirty tactics – it's really in your best interests, Bunny, if you don't talk about things you don't understand. As for Erin? I will do _anythin_ g I can to make sure she's away from you. I suppose you wouldn't understand. Even now, in her vulnerable state, you use it to your own advantage."

Bunny gapes at him, looking fishlike. If she is, then he's the shark and he will devour her without a second thought. She seems to know this as she blinks at him, before finding her voice.

"I have Erin's best interests at heart- I'm helping her." Bunny looks to Erin, who simply looks back at her mother with that blank gaze, and Hank? Hank wants to laugh.

Mostly because Bunny seems to believe the words she has just said. Well, he's only too happy to set her straight.

"You have her best interests at heart." He repeats, making sure that he has got it right.

"Of course." Bunny says firmly.

"You're helping her." This time there is no confusion that he is being sarcastic, and as Bunny grasps onto this, she begins to grow annoyed. He watches her take a breath, and then blows it out with her answer.

"Yes. She needs to be away from that, and needs time with people who care about her and love her-"

He has to stop her right there.

"Yes, like the person she thinks might have slipped something into her drink?"

He looks to Erin, who is too busy watching her mother for a reaction. He remembers back to the night when she told him this, how angry he was already at learning what she had been up to. He had had his suspicions, and when she had finally confirmed them it had been like a sucker punch to the gut. Except, he could take those easily. This was a hard hit, and he knows that's why they've said the truth is always the most difficult to swallow.

And then – when she had spoken about a guy slipping something into her drink...well, it had taken much restraint not to demand who this person was, and then out right forbid her from every seeing him again. And then he would have found out who it was regardless of her refusal to admit a name – because really he knew how the conversation would go – and then he would have paid him a visit himself.

Still might.

They had been too busy with a case then and the spiral of Erin, and the after effects. Hanks knows that it is a conversation that is not finished – and he will make sure Erin is never in the company of this man again.

Bunny's words bring him back harshly.

"We don't know that for sure." They are cruel, and even he is surprised. A look flashes across Erin's face, and of course Bunny does not see, does not know how much she has hurt her own daughter. But Hank sees, and Hank knows.

Knows that no matter what Erin is used to with her mother, that it will always have some kind of effect on her.

Hank looks at Bunny closely. He is trying to see what compelled her to say something so insensitive; tries to see if there is another answer anywhere. He thinks he knows why – knows that it's because she has suggested this person, and does not want to bear the guilt of it.

"Erin's word isn't good enough for you? The fact that she is even suspicious of that should be enough." Hank shakes his head.

"Frankly, I'm done talking to you; I've got my kid to worry about. Stay out of my way, Bunny," He both warns her and dismisses her, and Bunny goes to open her mouth like the gaping fish she is when Erin holds out a hand to her. Suddenly Bunny is confident again, but Hank is true to his word – he does not give her another thought. She lost her say a long time ago.

Hank stares at Erin, and she looks back at him. There is a peculiar expression on her face, and she appears to be concentrating hard, except he can tell that it hurts her.

He knows she's in pain, but there is nothing he can do about that now. Whatever is in her system has to run it's course, the most he can do is get it to start sooner. He needs to get her out of here, and his patience is wearing very thin now.

"If you need a break, fine. You can take leave and stay at my place. But you're not doing this, Erin. So I'll ask again. Either you can stand up and walk out of here like an adult, or I can drag you out." He smirks at her, but it is without humour, "After all, it wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

She blinks at him, and her eyes become huge in her face. They are red rimmed and watery, they are defiant and angry, they are nothing and everything – and he sees.

He sees Erin.

"Baby, you don't have to do this, alright?" Erin drags her gaze over to her mother, and then back to Hank. He waits for a response, already knowing that she will fight him. He's been down this path with her, and grief does horrible things to people.

He remembers what it was like to go home after Nadia. Her image haunted him, the echo of her laugh and smile as she pursed a better life for herself. It would waver and be replaced by Erin, and then it was Erin staring up at him in the body bag, broken, battered, bloody – dead, and gone.

Nadia would then tell him softly, "She is never safe. You can't save her." There was no mention that Hank couldn't save Nadia either, and there is no accusation in the dead girl's voice. But Hank feels it just as strongly, and he wonders if it is because it's not really Nadia he is seeing or hearing, it's his own fears.

Nadia was Erin's prodigy – and he faces losing Erin to things in that degree everyday. Yes, he has an inkling to her grief.

Besides, they have all lost Nadia, and now the fear of losing Erin is real.

Erin swallows, finally done thinking over Hank's words –pretending as if she has any real choice. Hank allows that, because Erin needs to feel in control, too.

To an extent.

"I'll do neither. I'll go, Hank – but you can take me back to my apartment."

Hank just looks at her, and she looks at him, and he can already see that she knows.

Though she cannot see it now, Hank is only doing what is best for her. It is him that has always had her best interests at heart, even in the midst of his dirty cop days. Somewhere, she knows this too. Perhaps it is not so far away from the surface. If it was, she would be fighting him more.

He knows, though, the real fight will start later. But it will be a battle won getting her out from Bunny.

Again, he lets her know her options. He feels as if he's giving her too much, in the hopes that it will help her.

Sometimes he wonders how he still has hope after everything.

"It's either rehab, or my place. Take your pick, kiddo."

"She's not doing anything wrong! Erin – you are an _adult_. You can grieve however you want!" Bunny is snarling like an frenzied, over-aggressive bulldog.

But Hank knows how to put leashes on those.

He finally acknowledges her again, and there is no heat to his gaze this time, only coldness.

"I'm not asking you and I'm not even asking her." He turns back to Erin to see her downing a shot, and reaching for the other. He takes her arms, and sees the glazed expression take over her face just before she goes limp. He scoops her into his arms, and almost staggers from how light she really is. He stares at the one shot and split beer and wonders how much she has had, or what is still in her system that has brought her to a stage of unconsciousness before nine thirty in the morning.

Hank grits his teeth and starts to head out the door. Bunny is screeching, promising Bunny promises – ones that cannot be kept, and have no threat or anything behind them – and he ignores her and continues for the exit. There are a couple of men who start to stand up, but one look from him has them back in their seats and pretending he doesn't exist anymore.

That's fine – because the only thing that exists right now to him is Erin.

He needs a plan, because he no longer has his wife to help him. He knows he can do it alone, but it is not in Erin's best interests. She needs a firm and gentle hand, and also someone to take charge and lead.

Hank knows exactly who can counter him, and who would only be too eager to play his part.

Although, he notes sourly, it's not exactly a _part._


	3. Chapter 3

Everything is spinning, and Erin wishes it was the room, because if it was then she could simply move rooms and the spinning would stop.

But she knows it's in her own head, created by her own hands - and god, these hands have done enough damage already. They are already stained by Nadia, and try as she might, she cannot scrub them clean.

Erin puts said hands to her face, only to pull them away with a grimace.

"Nasty headache? Sorry kiddo, you know the drill. It's only going to get worse."

"My aren't you awfully cheery. They should send you around to children's hospitals. You'd be great," Erin sneers at him, and Hank just raises his eyebrow at her pathetic attempt of snark. Erin just sighs and tries to turn away, only to stop in the realization that if she moves again - she will throw up. And that's the last bit of control she has, and she will not lose it. She won't.

She can't.

Hank folds his arms across his chest and looks at her, and Erin keeps her mouth shut because she knew if she asked him to go away, it would come across broken and pleading, and she is already humiliated enough.

"It's like that, is it?"

"I'm not sixteen years old anymore. I'm not going to scream and yell and then cry. I'm an adult -"

"Clearly." Hank nods as if he agrees, but even in her state Erin can tell he is being sarcastic. She bites her tongue and keeps surging forward - like she's always tried to do.

"I'll deal with this and then be out of your hair."

"I haven't got much of it. I guess by the time we're through with this, I'll be completely bald."

Erin doesn't know if she wants to yell at him, laugh, or cry, so she remains silent until she can't.

"That was Justin. I was a good girl compared to him."

It is part of their banter, and she cannot help the slip. Hank does not play along.

"You are a good girl - _woman_. This isn't some rebel act. This is grief, and it's the only reason I haven't walked away, or put you somewhere else. The best place you can be is here."

Erin peeks an eye open at him, and the two regard each other carefully. Erin still doesn't know what Hank is thinking, but it's becoming easier to attempt to decipher his tight expressions. Perhaps when the drugs completely leave her, she will be clear to see.

She will be clear to feel again, and the thought causes her heart to stutter in alarm. When it picks up again, it is pumping double time, and her hand flinches as she stops herself from placing it against her chest. Hank's eyes narrow; he sees anyway.

"I know it terrifies you. But you know that you have to." His voice is quiet and kind this time, and Erin's other eye opens, and she moves her head to look at the ceiling.

"I don't have to _do_ anything."

"You have people that won't allow you not to. Which reminds me, I've managed to keep Jay away for today." Erin's head snaps to him so fast that she gets whiplash, and she moves her hand quickly over her mouth and presses her fingers to her lips.

"Yes, I didn't think you'd want him here at all - but the best I could do was stall him for a day or two." He looks like he isn't bothered by that, and Erin narrows her eyes at him. She lowers her hand and watches it fall limply to her side, before moving her eyes back up to Hank.

"Really. _You_ could not stop him? This has to go into the books."

"Sure. It can go right beside this." He gestures to her, and she has no reply to give him. Instead, she turns to her side, and grips the blankets tightly.

"I'd like to be alone now." She whispers, and there is a heavy silence for a moment, and Erin waits with bated breath and a heart still beating too fast. She does not like these silences, and feels that they say more than the words delivered after them ever could.

"I'll be downstairs. I'll bring you something shortly - _yes,_ Erin. You have to eat." And then he disappears, and Erin wishes she could, too.

* * *

It is only when the room stops spinning, and day turns into night that Erin moves. She has spent the day in fevered chills and sweats, unable to even stomach looking at the food that Hank attempted to get her to eat. Now that her mind is clear, she feels a linger of embarrassment at the blurry memory of Hank forcing her to have a bath. He had given her the decency to strip the shirt and pants that had specks of vomit on them off, and then once again when she emerged. Both times he had not left the room, but remained within reach should she need it, or should she fall.

He did not seem to understand that she had already fallen.

She still feels - _off_. It is the best way to describe it, but she thinks maybe she will always feel this way after Nadia.

 _Nadia._

The spirited, fiery and passionate young woman that reminded her so much of herself. Nadia just needed someone to believe in her, to help her channel all that she had into something good.

Exactly what Hank had done for her.

Erin had felt a responsibility and love for Nadia that was somewhat between devoted sister and mother, and had certainly fussed over Nadia like - well, like Hank had done for her. The young woman created and filled a place within her, and now that she was aware of that space and the absence in Nadia's place - well. It was not just grief for her murdered charge, and anger for the psychopath, the monster - the unnameable really, for there is no name for those kind of people.

It was grief for the loss of what Nadia was to her, and Erin could feel that space within her reach out, desperate and angry and lonely, and as Nadia was the only one who could satisfy it, it instead turned and devoured anything good that came close.

Erin thought she might soon lose what she was to it, and - she could not deny that being lost felt better than this.

The house is silent, and the lights are off, and Erin looks around the room for anything that she may need, and then realizes she wants to take nothing. She has her bank cards, and whatever fickle things she needs she can always buy. She's always been happy with what she's carried with her- herself.

She goes to push open her window, only for it to remain budged in it's place. Scowling, Erin tries again, and then a glint from the moonlight forces her to look down and into the bolts screwed firmly in.

Erin uses the window this time to propel herself backwards, and wants to laugh. It should not be so amusing to her that Hank did not do this when she was a teenager, but now that she is an adult. Perhaps it's because he's right - this is not an act of rebellion. This is the real thing, and that makes it that much more dangerous.

Erin doesn't care.

She opens her door, and decides that Hank knows what she's going to try and do- if what he has done to the window is anything to go by. Why bother sneaking around? Why not just make a run for it? Could that throw him off?

She decides to try - because really what else has she got to lose? Perhaps her desperation to be free, to remain in a drunken, drugged haze will fuel her to be faster and successful.

Erin pushes open the front door, and she should know that something is wrong because Hank has still not made an appearance. But she is too caught up in the thrill of being undetected -or so she thinks - that she keeps going. She is a couple of feet out now, and makes the error of twisting her neck backwards to peer into the house. Hank is still nowhere to be seen, and she grins - only for it to slip off her face as she turns to the front, just in time to go nose first into a solid body.

"Erin. As desperate to see me, as I am to see you?" The voice is not amused, and arms go from her waist to her arms, locking and securing her in place.

Erin swallows, and does not yet try to escape. Instead, she looks slowly and almost fearfully up into the stern, cool eyes of Jay Halstead.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm really unsure about this chapter... sounds promising already hey? But I wanted to get something up... and something was urging me to write this and here we go... I'm not sure how accurate I got Jay. I don't know why but he is a bit of a difficult character to write for? Erin and Hank are very passionate and I'm not saying Jay isn't but I feel sometimes he DOES sit on the sidelines with things. If that makes sense?**

 **Anyway I would really love your feedback and if you have constructive criticism than let's hear it! Just please don't pick apart my writing. Thank you in advance!**

 **Please enjoy!**

 **I don't own the characters or the show or anything - I just like playing with them ;)**

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Erin takes a step back – because she knows if Jay's hands remain any longer on her, then she will be hit with everything he is feeling. And she feels enough guilt as it is. Perhaps it is selfish, but Erin doesn't care. She only cares about Nadia, and Nadia is dead.

Erin looks evenly at Jay, and he returns it. She is very good with manipulating her expressions to pinpoint exact reflections of her mood and thoughts, but tonight, Jay is better at it than her, and she is the one who looks away first.

"Hank's inside, no doubt. Have a good chat," She bites out, and then takes a step in a futile attempt to move past Jay.

His arm shoots out, and she pulls herself up short just before she runs into it.

"I'm not here for him." Jay says, his voice hard but calm. A paradox, almost.

"Well, you can't be here for me. Because I'm not here." To make this statement true, she attempts to leave again, pushing at Jay's arm. He suddenly shifts, and his fingers are soon curled around her arm instead, holding her in place.

Erin clenches her teeth together and glares, but Jay does not back down. Instead, his own jaw tightens and his eyes- bloodshot, she notices now – narrow.

"That is true – just not how you meant."

"How about you just say what you mean, Jay, and stop wasting my time?" Jay does not rise to the bait. Sometimes Erin will give him attitude, and he will laugh at her and refer her to her as 'Voight' for the rest of the day. He does not do this now, because it will not make her laugh, or annoy her to the point where she refuses to speak to him, until he comes up with some foolish way to end her silence. No, this is not some game. Jay rubs circles into Erin's skin, and her eyes almost soften. Jay takes a breath, and dives.

"I mean that you are here. You're standing in front of me, and I'm touching you. But you, Erin, you're not here. You remember when I said that I didn't care where you were, because I wasn't your boss?"

Erin blinks, whether it's because he's bringing it up or because of his forwardness, he's not sure. Maybe it doesn't matter. Erin blinks at him, and when she makes no move to deny it, Jay presses on.

"Well now I do."

"I'm touched. Nicely played. Have you been reading Trudy's novels that she hides in the third drawer?"

Jay's fingers stop against Erin's skin, and for a moment he raises an eyebrow at her.

"Wait, really?"

"Really," She confirms, and her lips twitch as she speaks.

"How do you know this?" Jay asks, suspiciously, and Erin just smirks at him with the smallest quiver in her brow. It is easy now, to bring up meaningless things and to smooth and cover what's going on. Erin is offering him the way out, but he doesn't want to take it. Not even selfishly. There is nowhere he'd rather be than her, even if she is doing what she can to hurt him – to push him away.

"I'm not here for Hank," Jay says, and Erin tenses, "I'm here for you."

"Thank you. But – "

"You're fine?" He cuts her off, and answers for her.

Erin doesn't say anything, because she is not a liar. She may sneak, and stall, but when confronted with the truth, Erin Lindsay will not lie.

Jay waits for her to say something, but since Erin cannot deny it, she can say nothing. Jay nods in acknowledgement of this.

"I'm glad you're admitting it to yourself, at least." Jay spins her around, so that they are now facing the house.

"Come on, Erin. Sleep it off –"

Erin yanks her arm out of Jay's grip and spins back to face him.

"Go to bed, it'll all be better in the morning, right?" She almost yells at him. It is the anger that is causing a higher pitch in the volume of her voice.

"I didn't say that." Jay tells her calmly, patiently. This stumps Erin for a moment, and in that moment she realizes that she wants a fight. She wants someone to be naïve and tell her that it will be okay – just so she can turn around and tell the person exactly why it wouldn't be. She wants to tell them how unfair it is, that Nadia had gotten out of the life she was. She'd gotten out, and was even accepted into the academy. That she had joined the other side to stop what she had been coerced into.

Until, of course – she had been murdered, raped, tortured. That is how this ended, and that is how she would be remembered. Erin shakes her head, forcing herself out of it this time. The other times, she feels as if it's a punishment to think about it – that it is what she must do to atone for getting Nadia killed.

But right now, she needs to be able to think a little more clearly than she had been, so that she could serve herself well in arguing her points, and leaving.

"You implied it! I'm not going in. You can if you're so tired. I don't have a job anymore, so –"

"Erin, stop." Jay commands, and there is something choked in his voice that causes Erin to obey. Jay swallows, and continues.

"I know what you're doing. You're looking for a fight, and I'm not going to give it to you. You're looking for a way out – and I'm also not going to give it to you." Jay looks at her, as if to make sure she's understanding what he is saying. She's not sure what the reason is – perhaps there are many – but his words are almost fuzzy and she cannot reach them. Or, they cannot reach her. Jay takes a step forward, hand outstretched. She takes a step back and watches him as he tenses, alert and ready to give chase. Like she is the frightened animal, and he the rescuer trying to coax her to come to him, to not be afraid.

Because he would keep her safe and protect her.

But Erin knew the truth – no one is ever safe.

"Goodbye, Jay." She says firmly, and tries not to think how inadequate this goodbye is. It's not even a goodbye – it is , well, it is just her grief. Jay is right, she is not really her anymore. Guilt does that to a person. It does not come in waves like grief does – where one moment you're fine, and the next you have to sit down because you cannot breathe and the pressure is all too much – no. Guilt is a weight that sits on your chest and pins you. It does not come and go, but sits in the home it's made. Guilt is like a tree – there is one root to it, and then it is suddenly growing and branching out, and you are the one who nurtures it by your thinking and feeling – and then it has grown and is looming over you. And until you cut it down, it continues to grow.

Maybe it is different for some, but that is how it is with Erin.

"I don't think so, Erin. For starters, that goodbye sucked and I think even you know that. And secondly, I've given you your space. I forced myself to sit back, and let you do what you needed to do. But – when we found you the other night, and I saw you with – with…" Jay pauses here, and Erin's brow moves as she watches emotions pass across Jay's face. Maybe they are too quick, or, like with Hank, she can't read them anymore – but for whatever reason, Erin has no idea what it means – only that it means something.

Jay continues as if nothing has happened.

"It didn't matter that you were with him. But the bottles… well, I just knew what whatever the hell it was, it's not what you need to be doing. Hank told me he had

but I needed to see with my own eyes. Guess it's a good thing we know you pretty well, huh? God knows where you would have wound up, and with who." Erin flinches.

"You're not my dad." The words slip out, and Jay snorts as if amused.

"No, but I'm your partner. I said I have your back and I meant it then, and I mean it now. I can't sit on the sidelines anymore – that's not me."

Erin looks at him for a moment, and she wishes she had it in her to give him the response that he deserves. But she doesn't have much left in her – and whatever it is, it isn't good.

"Oh no, you should sit on the sidelines. Everyone needs a change."

Jay closes his eyes, and Erin looks out and takes a small step when another hand clamps down on her arm. And then the world is not right, and she is tilting, only to be straightened horizontally.

Jay is holding her across his chest. He does not say anything, even though she struggles and shouts obscenities at him.

Jay just tightens his hold and jaw, and continues inside. The door shuts closed behind them, and then Jay sets Erin onto her feet, keeping a hand on her arm to steady her.

"I guess she gets that potty mouth from you, huh?" Jay says to the darkness, and it is only when Erin finishes glaring at him and yanks her arm away from him again, that a lamp flicks on, casting a soft glow around the room.

It sets a mood that is the opposite of what everyone is feeling.

"Or perhaps I learnt it from her all those years ago." Hank responds, and Jay's mouth lifts slightly, but other than that he does not react. Instead, he is looking studiously at Erin now that she is not shadowed by darkness.

Except, she still is.

He sees it in the lines of her face, in the way that she pointedly ignores them both. Her fists are clenched, and her teeth are pressed together behind her pursed lips. But it is most clear in her eyes; she flicks them up to him and he finds himself almost reeling back from the onslaught of her pain. Her eyes are like angry oceans, but he is a good swimmer and so he does not look away.

Hank is the first to make a move.

"It is late, and this was not unexpected. You may not be a child anymore, Erin, but you're still my child. If I cannot trust you to remain here while –"

"I don't want to. I don't have a problem. I'm grieving –"

"Yes, you are. Which is why you need to be around people who love you. People who will ensure that you're safe during this, and that you don't do anything stupid."

" _I_ _don't need_ –"

"Erin – you were worried about someone spiking your drink." Hank cuts her off. He does not shout this, but says it quietly, deadly. Erin blanches and quickly looks to Jay, who is staring at Hank with an unreadable expression.

"Excuse me?" Jay finally says, and then turns to Erin. The unreadable expression is quickly morphing into anger, and Erin turns an accusatory glare onto Hank.

"Really? I can't believe you would say that –"

"I'm sure he wants to know. Just as I do. What happened there, Erin? You've yet to explain that to me, and I'm very interested in it. But we can come back to that – the point is that you are putting yourself in these harmful situations. Bad enough on their own, but with the company of people like that – downright dangerous and harmful. I know that you feel the need to lose yourself; because that's the only way you can't feel it. But that's a lie. It will never go away. You need to go through it, and then manage it." It's the most Hank has really said, and she feels perhaps the most honest. Because he is right. No matter what she does, it will not go away. Maybe she doesn't want to. Maybe she would do anything to forget every single thing. She was a paradox.

Hank was watching her, gauging her reaction. She didn't want to disappoint.

"Always the optimist." Erin hissed, sounding almost like a snake with the venom in her voice now.

Hank and Erin looked at each other. He was the first to look away, turning a weary gaze onto Jay.

"Can you please take Erin to bed?" Jay almost looked startled, but nodded his confirmation and looked to Erin, waiting for her move.

"Like I'm a child, huh. Isn't that your duty, dad?" Erin snapped to Hank, and he just gave her a humorless smile.

"Like a typical father, I'll sneak in after you're asleep to check up on you." And then he nodded to Jay and disappeared. Erin blinked after him, and then turned to Jay, suddenly not knowing what to say.

"Was that a warning of some sort?" Jay finds himself asking, and Erin just rolls her eyes and turns to the stairs.

They make their way up, and Erin's fists are itching to swing and hit and plough their way through the mass to succeed in the late mission of getting outside. Though even she knows now that she will never get away, and this is what it is – and she must play along, for now. She is almost content with this decision as she lies down, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Jay startles her as he takes a seat on the edge of her bed. She prepares herself to berate him – because she does _not_ need a babysitter- when Jay beats her to speech.

"What happened with your drink?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary: The mind is always first to obey the body's instinct - and Erin's is flight. Except, she has too many people who won't allow that. A different take to the Season 2 ending. Lot's of Voight and Erin, and Erin and Jay and the the rest of the unit. They aren't just a team, they're family.**

 **I do not own Chicago PD or write for profit.**

 **A/N: Thank you very much for all the feedback. I loved reading everything! I noticed a couple of mistakes in the last chapter (cringe) but I guess that teaches me for writing late at night...**

 **Anyway I THINK you will enjoy this chapter... but I'm not a mind reader ;) So please review and TELL me The more reviews, the quicker I'll update!**

 **Enjoy!**

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Erin blanches. She is unprepared – though she realizes in hindsight that she shouldn't be. But she is not herself – not the old Erin at least, who knows how to navigate herself around things such as these. Or, she would not have put herself in the position to be exposed to it in the first place.

Erin sighs wearily, and runs a hand through her unruly hair. She looks out the window, looks at the bed sheet that is crumpled in her clenched fists; she looks anywhere but at Jay, and it is not the first time that Erin thinks this new version of her is a coward, because she cannot look him in the eye. She does not want to see his disappointment - not his. Hank's enough, and Jay is – _was_ – her partner, and that made them equals. And now, she has undone it, and she is the lesser of the two and she cannot face it.

"Another time, Jay."

His eyes narrow stubbornly, and his nose flares. "No, I think tonight is perfect. We can clear the air, now. That way it's not hanging around like... I don't know... a bad hangover." Here, his eyes pierce hers and she finds that she has nothing to say to that dig of his. Jay expects as much, and continues.

"I've got some things to say, and this time you're going to listen. I didn't want to have to say this, Erin, but I feel that someone needs to. And it's not coming from a place of righteousness, or authority. I told you once that I'm not your boss and I meant it." Jay stops, and Erin is grateful for the time lapse here, knowing that it is both for her and for him – because she needs to prepare, and he needs to find something – she's not sure exactly what – to continue on.

"Nadia would not want this for you." He says it very firmly, as if to give no room for her to argue on the fact. His gaze is clear and direct and this time Erin does not need to guess at what he is feeling. Now, Jay is vulnerable and open for her – and he is not holding back. It hits Erin, and she has nothing to hold onto as it slams forcefully into he -just another weight on top of everything else. She manages to breathe through it, and Jay is watching her very closely as she processes it. She thinks she has it under control, and until the fog in Erin's mind clears, leaving an image -which is as clear as Jay who is sitting right in front of her - of Nadia in it's wake.

Erin freezes, tenses and digs her nails into her palms. Nadia simply raises one disproving eyebrow at her as she regards her, and Jay continues to talk now, unaware of what his words have done. He may be simply trying to wake common sense within her, but instead, he's woken up something else entirely.

"She would want you to continue tracking down the bad guys. She would not want you to relapse into what you so desperately fought to get her out of."

Nadia was nodding, and there was an almost sad expression on her face now. _"Jay's doing pretty well, but I would also say – add a little kick in it for me. Every person you come across that deserves it, give them something from me. And, for those that need a second chance and deserve them – help them for us, Erin. Like Hank did for you, and you did for me. Keep that alive - because there are people out there who need it. Don't let that die with me, Erin."_

"–she would want you to help those who need it, Erin. And you need it now, so she would want you to help yourself first."

Nadia smiled at this but Erin found that she could only stare. She resisted the urge to say anything – because there was too much to say and it would come out as she was, a jumbled a mess. This moment was too precious to ruin it, and it seemed important to her to keep quiet, to listen, and to just simply _look_. Words were inadequate to describe how good it felt to see Nadia as she had been, and not like the last time she'd seen her – bloody and dead.

Jay had stopped now, his eyes zeroed in Erin's face as he noticed the shift in her. "Erin?"

It's asked tentatively, but Erin is not there with Jay anymore. She's with Nadia - wherever that was, and she didn't want to leave.

 _"But you can't stay here. It's rather boring, you see. Not like making a difference and catching the bad guys and saving people."_

"But I'm now the bad guy." Erin can't help it – the words slip out, unchecked, and Jay flinches as if she has struck out not with her tongue – but physically.

"What?" He asks her, but Erin cannot answer him because she is too busy looking at Nadia laughing.

 _"Oh boy. They have a long haul ahead of them. My death sucked – but it wasn't for nothing. We got him, didn't we? And you will realize through this, Erin, who is really important and who will always be there for you – which you should have known already, but you have some deep issues that go back all the way to that mother of yours."_

"Erin what are you talking about? You're not a bad person –" Jay's words blur in and out of Erin's ears; she can barely hear them over the pounding in her head. He seems to disappear before her, and Nadia comes more into focus. Her eyes are narrowed, and she almost looks thoughtful – yet she is still watching Erin with that expression that makes Erin feel sick. She does not deserve such a look. It is the kind that a mother gives to her child when they are hurting and can do nothing about it. It's the kind of rare one that she pulls from Hank - or so he says - and the kind that Jay gives her so easily.

Erin just really wants a drink - she's positive she's going to vomit and knows the only way to keep it down is to chase a hard drink after it.

 _"You can't run away from this, Erin. Doing so only prolongs the nightmares, the grief and this stupid guilt thing you have going on._ You didn't get me killed _. Unfortunately I'm not there to tell you, so I just have to trust Jay, Hank and all the others who love you to. It has to be enough."_

"Erin, _Lindsay._ "

Erin lets out a choking sound, and Jay suddenly moves, taking her by the shoulders first. He then slides one hand up to her face, fingers going under her chin to lift it up. Erin fights to stay on the image of Nadia, who is watching her very seriously now. She loses the battle and her eyes involuntarily flick up to Jay's face.

"Erin, talk to me. What's going through that head of yours?"

 _"Who else?"_ Nadia sighs, but her image is starting to waver.

"Don't go!" Erin blurts out, moving forwards, and Nadia gives one sad little smile before she disappears completely. Jay is talking in her ear – she thinks shouting – but she is too busy panicking over Nadia leaving her, _again._ Her hand shoots out to grab at her, and collides with Jay's face. He reels back, shocked, and she has the quick thought of apologizing, but doesn't. Jay has let go of her, and Erin darts up. She doesn't know where she is going, but she knows that she has to get out – away, out of this room and somewhere else. Jay shoots up after her, but Erin as at the door, and before she can open it, it almost opens up onto her. She collides into Hank and attempts to push him out the way. She's desperate to do anything to make him move, to get them to leave her alone.

If Nadia had thought that by appearing to Erin to give her one last message would help, she had been sorely mistaken. If anything, Erin wants more – demands more, demands to be able to say the things she hadn't got to say. But life does not grant these things to anyone. Erin is no one special, after all - in fact, she's the link to Nadia's death. Perhaps no one had been granting her anything, and it was just a hallucination from weening off the drugs.

Hank holds onto her tightly, and Erin now sinks into him, giving up on going anywhere for now. Hank has been constant and consistent in her life, and she realizes as she clings onto him that right this second, she needs this. She lets go, and the sobs are wrenched out of her, as if an invisible hand is going down her throat to find them and pull them up for her. Maybe it's meant to help her, but all it does is hurt.

"She's gone – she's gone, and it's my fault. I don't want to do this anymore."

"I know," Hank says to her, and she's not sure if she can barely hear him because of everything else she is hearing, or because Hank himself can barely get the words. She's not sure what he's agreeing to, and she doesn't care. She hangs onto him, and he holds her to him just as tight, as if by doing so can protect her. Jay's hand goes to her shoulder, and slides down to her back in silent support, and for a moment she allows herself to take what they are offering her - and she feels, for the first time, steady.

These are not her own feelings - they are borrowed, and so, she knows it won't last.

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 **TBC.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary: The mind is always first to obey the body's instinct - and Erin's is flight. Except, she has too many people who won't allow that. A different take to the Season 2 ending. Lot's of Voight and Erin, and Erin and Jay and the the rest of the unit. They aren't just a team, they're family.**

 **I do not own Chicago PD or write for profit.**

 **A/N: I have to say that I added something in here that did not occur on the show. Please be mindful; it just suits my story, that is all.**

 **I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. Please let me know by hitting the 'review' button.**

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Light is touching her face. It is not gentle, and she squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to block it.

"Erin."

The voice is soft and familiar, and she blinks once, twice, before she stops. Jay is in focus now, and he is inches away from her, perched on a chair.

"How-" He goes to ask, and then hesitates. Erin lounges up on an elbow, giving him her attention.

"How are you?" Jay dives in. She looks down and shrugs, and Jay ducks down to meet her gaze.

"Hmm?" He prods her, and she lifts her eyes slowly.

"I'm alright."

They are silent, and he looks at her as if he doesn't believe her. Jay waits for another moment, and lets out a sigh when it becomes clear that she has nothing to add.

"Okay then. Well, can you explain to me what happened last night?"

This one is harder to answer, and Erin knows that Jay will not let her lie slide this time. She doesn't know how to put it into words, because she herself does not know exactly what it was. She knows what she wants to _believe,_ so she starts with that.

"Nadia - " She stops, because even saying her name still hurts. She swallows over a lump that is large enough to be a hazzard, and Jay reaches out and takes her hand in his. He interlocks their fingers, and his thumb begins to move in circles across her skin. Erin watches this, and then looks up into Jay's patient eyes. His lips stretch into a smile, and she suddenly feels coaxed into continuing.

"You were talking to me. And suddenly she is sitting right beside you - right in front of me. I tried to touch her. I tried to stop her from going - and that was when I hit you." She pauses. "I'm sorry for that, by the way. That was unintentional."

Jay huffs out a small laugh. "It's alright. I knew that something was happening. I just didn't know what. It's not so easy to fight something that's going on in the head." His expression shifts, and his movements still. This time Erin tightens her grip, and Jay seems to come back to himself.

"What was she saying to you?" He asks softly, almost hesitantly. Erin knows he's being careful because he doesn't want to set her off. It is in this moment that Erin thinks about how what she must look like to them. She is a ticking bomb, and they must go carefully or else they too will be swallowed in the explosion. She wants to hide away - far away. She is no good being around anyone. Erin begins to pull away, but Jay's holding fast.

"Don't. Come on, it's alright. One day at a time, hey? Did she say anything about me driving again?" He's joking and prodding, and it's falling flat. What does it matter what she said? It's all in her head. It wasn't real; Nadia is not here to be able to say those things.

Jay sees the light go off, and he's suddenly moving. His arms slide around her, and he holds her close. She does not react, and as he wraps himself around her he wishes that it was this easy. That anything that tried to hurt her would have to go through him first, because he is a willing participant.

He wants to be able to protect her from what's going on inside her head - but how can he begin to help when she will not even talk to him?

He knows the simple answer, and that is that he must try.

"Jay." Erin whispers against him.

"Mm hmm?" His voice is just as quiet.

"She said what you were saying. She said to continue helping kids like her, and like myself." Jay stills for a moment as he hears the words, and listens to Erin's tone. She will not say it, but he knows.

"I lost my best friend when I was nineteen. We were out late one night, and a couple of guys jumped us. Ben pushed me out of the way of a knife and took it instead." Jay stops, and Erin is fighting to get out of his grasp. He lets her, and she is looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

"His blood is spilling in my hands; he must have been in agony. But he smiles at me, and tells me he loves me and to keep fighting for that - for that kid. That I'm needed and I'm going to do all the good in the world. There were - and still is - a lot of things that I wanted to tell him. But I was running out of time - he was dying in my arms. I told him that I loved him back. I told him that he needed to wait, even though he had never waited for anyone in his whole damn life. Just a bit more, I kept saying. It wasn't enough. Doesn't matter how hard we try, some things just happen. Or they don't.

I look back and think, would I have pushed myself as hard as I did if it wasn't for him? I'll never know. But what I do know is that he comes to me, too. When I'm at my lowest I see him - and he tells me to get off my ass. That he didn't die just so I could be miserable." Jay stops and sniffs, choking out a laugh. Erin is staring at him; there are too many thoughts and questions that she has, too many to even begin to try and put at least one into a comprehendible sentence. Words would be in adequate anyway, and so she listens instead.

"That was always like him. Holding it over my head. I wonder if I really did see him, or if my mind conjured something up from memory to help me. And honestly? It doesn't matter. If it helps you to believe that it was her, than that's what you should do. No one can tell you anything different, because it is between you and Nadia." Jay is looking at her fiercely now, and Erin swallows torrents of words down, because she knows he is not finished.

"You will drive yourself crazy if you try and find out otherwise. It's not a path you want to go down. It's something you saw for a reason, Erin, and I think you need to heed what Nadia has said. I think that by helping anyone you can, will honour her. And that's all you can do. Live your life, and honour those that you love. Even when they're gone."

Erin stares at him for a long time. Jay is no longer holding onto her hands, and so she clasps them together and begins to twist as she thinks. Jay reaches out and pulls them apart, taking one in his own instead.

And then she takes a deep breath and looks at him.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Jay repeats, his eyebrows crinkling.

"Okay." Erin confirms.

* * *

Afternoon fades to twilight, and Jay stands up from the chair to switch the television off. The credits fade to black, and Erin stretches from her position on the lounge.

"It was a good movie," She tells Jay for what he believes is the tenth time, though she will disagree.

"Mm hmm."

"Hank loves it."

"Hank loves Mean Girls? Can I tell the guys?"

"Only if you don't value your life," Erin says and stands, walking quietly over to his side. They both pause, listening as Hank moves around in the kitchen, organising dinner.

"I'm sure I can tell them not to mention it if they value _their_ lives," Jay retorts, and Erin moves even closer to him. He smiles down at her, looking relaxed for the first time in what she is sure is awhile.

"Or it can just be our little secret." She purrs, and Jay's smile begins slipping off his face because he knows that look, and she is leaning up towards him and as much as he wants to -

"Erin," He whispers against her lips, and she plants herself back onto the ground. She looks shocked, and he is unsure if it's because she thinks he rejected her, or if she cannot believe her own actions.

"I..." She begins with a frown, and Jay whispers her name, ready to deflect whatever nonsense she is going to say, because he knows her, and so he knows what she is going to say.

There is a knock on the door, and they still.

The movement in the kitchen stops.

"I'll get it." Erin says, padding over to the door. Jay follows, frowning at her back as he hurries to catch up to her.

She looks over her shoulder, barely slowing down.

"I've got it." Her voice comes out sounding more curt than she meant it too, and it causes Jay to halt. She purses her lips almost apologetically, and then continues to the door.

Hank comes out of the kitchen, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Shouldn't you be getting that?" Jay asks Hank, who just shrugs.

"Nah, let her." Jay thinks he gets it. Erin needs to feel that she still has some control, and if she wants to do something as simple as answering the door, then what is the harm?

The door clicks open, and Erin takes a step back. Jay straightens, and Hank is suddenly no longer leaning on the wall so casually.

"Hi, Erin. Your mum told me you might be here. Want to come party?"

* * *

 **TBC.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for such a late chapter. I hope you like this... I can't be sure, so please drop a review telling me your thoughts.**

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Erin's fingers curve deeper into the wood, and for a moment she's not thinking about who's standing before her at the door. No, she's thinking if she keeps on pushing, can her fingers go through the door, or would she just break them trying?

But, she can't ignore Landon, nor can she ignore Hank's footsteps approaching. She gives Landon a tight smile and begins to the shut the door. Landon, the fool, stops it with his foot.

"Hey, if you're scared, you don't need to be. I can break you out."

Erin closes her eyes, and her lips thin as she keeps from laughing at herself.

Hank's now beside her, and Landon's easy going smile slips right off his face. He suddenly straightens, and Erin thinks he's seconds away from saluting.

"Good evening. I don't want any trouble - I'm here to take Erin, and leave."

There is a terrible silence.

"I think I do want trouble. You mentioned Bunny, right?" Hank's tone is all charm, but his words are twisting between pleasantness and danger, and Erin throws herself in front of the bomb in an attempt to diffuse it.

"I'm fine, okay? You need to leave." Erin goes to shut the door, and is once again stopped.

Hank's holding it in the palm of his hand; his eyes narrowed and calculating as he stares at Landon. The other looks nervous, but swallows and lifts his head and then - then, takes a step forward, and in that moment Erin knows there's going to be an explosion. Hank is going to see that as a challenge, and by the look on his face, is all too happy to accept the challenge, and destroy Landon in the process of it.

"I'm not going without you. We've gotten real close lately, and -"

"Real close, have you?" Hank cuts in smoothly, and he looks at Erin before taking her elbow, grip gentle despite his rough words. Erin tries to protest as he moves her and steps into her place, but he continues talking over her.

"I suppose you're part of the reason she's been to work late. Partying real hard the night before?"

Landon shoots Erin a look - is this guy for real? He's one of your cop buddies? - before meeting Hank's simmering gaze.

"I never made Erin do anything she didn't want to do." Landon says calmly. Hank's eyes narrow into slits, and his nostrils flares; Erin knows he's going in for the strike, and she can't bare it, but she is just as powerless as Landon.

At least she knows what's about to happen.

"I never insinuated that you did." Hank begins slowly, and then folds his arms across his chest. "So, why are you defending yourself against an accusation that was never spoken? Unless, you feel guilty of it."

Erin goes to step forward, but a hand stops her. She's forgotten about Jay, but instead of feeling embarrassed, all she feels is relief. There is no judgement on his face, and he is a calm and steady presence. His hand moves to her shoulder and he squeezes, before he looks back at the scene unfolding.

Landon is opening and closing his mouth, and then he shoots Erin a pleading look.

"Tell them, Erin! I never did anything to you."

"You're doing something now. Wanting to break her out, huh? Get her back to the partying and the drugs, get her back to her mother. I'll tell you something, and you feel free to run along like a good little messenger that you are. She is _never_ going back to that. _Ever_. Do I make myself clear? Tell me if there's anything you're confused about. I'm only to happy to make you understand." Somewhere in his speech Hank moves forward and grips Landon's shoulder, and his voice rises with each word. It is a passionate declaration, and there's something in it that makes Erin feel safe. It is more than just protection, it is a promise of security, and Erin suddenly feels like a child. Hank looks back at her, and in that glance, it hits Erin as if he's said the words out loud. She has never stopped being his child. She is his, more than the city is. More than Bunny, more than Jay. She belongs to him, and since he met her. Erin gives him a watery smile, and says nothing as Hank turns back to Landon and pushes him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"You ever come around again - if I find you sneaking about, or anywhere near Erin, then I will not be so kind to you. You can pass that message on too. Erin's done with you, and done with that life."

Landon gets to his feet, brushing his jacket off. He looks up, and Erin's breath stills at the snarl on his face. It speaks of vengeance, of going to war. Hank sees it, and rushes down the steps. Erin's pushing Jay off her and following, and by the time she's outside, Hank already has Landon against a tree.

"You know, I never got an answer to my question. Did you slip something into her drink? Did you hurt her?"

"Erin, wait!" Jay's arm curves around her waist, and Erin's feet lift from the ground as he pulls her to a stop.

"Nope. She was all too happy to spread her legs for me." Landon lets out a laugh, but the second one comes out as a choke as Hank's fingers curl around his throat, digging in.

"Voight, stop!" Erin barks. She's not pleased about what has been said. She feels degraded, and sick to the stomach at his words. They have pulled something up, something that Erin was happy to keep buried. She doesn't have the choice of not thinking about it because it's there, and here, and instead she pushes it to the side. Hank ignores her, tightening his fingers, and Landon's face begins to turn an angry red.

Erin turns to Jay. He does't look at her, but instead watches with a dark satisfaction.

"Nah. Let him do his thing. Come on, Erin, you don't need to watch this." Jay finally pays her attention, turning her around, but Erin pushes against him.

"Stop it. You're not my boyfriend, so stop acting like it." She snaps at him, and Jay stops, spinning her to face him this time.

"No, but I'm your partner. Your friend. I care about you, and I'll protect you always, no matter the attitude or crap I get from it. You're welcome." Jay resumes walking, and Erin digs her feet in.

"Please, get -"

"Are you a hundred percent sure he didn't spike your drink?" Jay flings the question at her so seriously, that it takes Erin a moment to attempt to answer it. Jay deflects her stutters with another question.

"If not him, then someone else? Can you say with certainty? I know this is confronting, but your answer depends on how far I let Voight go. So look me in the eye and tell me, Erin."

Jay is staring at her, and Hank's voice swims in and out of her ears. She feels like she is drowning. Her head feels heavy, and her vision suddenly hazy.

"I wanted it the first time." She admits very quietly. Jay tries not to flinch at her response. It is a good one, but it still hurts to hear that she was with someone else.

Not as much as it would have hurt to hear that it had been done unwillingly.

Erin meets his gaze; this time his eyes are softer,, and he looks as if he's seconds away from calling out to Hank.

"I guess - I guess that's why he thought I would want to a second time, you know?" Jay's head snaps to hers in alarm, and she sees the beginning of fury. It starts small, like all fires do. She sees it being born in his laughter lines, changing them into something much darker. She sees it in the tips of his ears, in the movement of clenching his teeth. She takes a breath, and releases it in a nervous sigh.

"It's okay. Don't be scared. Go on, sweetheart." Jay encourages her, tone gentle and kind and warm, and Erin wants to bask in it, but she knows that it is an illusion. Behind it, is something deadly.

"I didn't. I said no. And after that, things... things became a little fuzzy."

She looks at him, and he looks at her, and suddenly she's not nervous anymore.

She's terrified.


End file.
